


Quick Fix

by petitedemise



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Kink Meme, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Smut, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitedemise/pseuds/petitedemise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lestrade calls Sherlock to a case in the middle of sex, Sherlock decides that there is no time to finish, so he and John improvise a temporary solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Fix

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt from the kinkmeme: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/22393.html?thread=131765369#t131765369
> 
> As always, please keep in mind that this is fiction -- specifically smut -- and as such it is, of course, not the most realistic nor smartest scenario. I'm also awful at creating crime scenes, so I tried to keep it as vague as possible -- hopefully it isn't too annoying!
> 
> This is also unbeta'ed and unbrit-picked, so please forgive any errors.
> 
> Enjoy!

“John.”

“...”

“ _John._ ”

“...”

“John, I’m _bored._ ”

“And I’m busy, Sherlock. Cleaning up the mess _you_ made, nonetheless. I’m sure you can find something to do.”

“We could have sex.”

“We _could._ But like I said, I’m busy…”

“John.”

“...but perhaps I could be persuaded…”

“John, you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“...if you were to ask nicely.”

“John, really, I’m not a child.”

“Okay, if you’re not interested, I’ll continue cleaning up this mess for you. Or since you’re not a child, maybe you could do that on your own? Pick up your toys after you’re done with them?”

“Toxic chemicals are _not_ toys.”

“Fair point.”

“...”

“...”

“John?”

“What?”

“...please have sex with me.”

“Excellent, you’re learning manners. Would you like a gold star as a reward?”

Sherlock smirked. “I’d prefer your cock.”

“I think we can manage that,” John laughed.

* * *

A short while later, John is slowly thrusting in and out of his lover’s arse when Sherlock’s cell phone rings.

And the bastard has the nerve to reach over and grab his phone.

“Sherlock, you wouldn’t _dare_.”

“But John, it’s Lestrade.”

“Well, Lestrade isn’t fucking you right now-”

“I’m well aware.”

“So he can bloody well wait. We’re busy”

With a sigh, Sherlock allows his phone to stop ringing.

“ _Thank you_.”

The bloody phone begins ringing again.

And this time, Sherlock picks up right away with a mischievous smirk.

“You _fucking wanker._ ”

“Hello?”

“Who _does_ that?”

“No, I’m not busy.”

“Well, I’m not stopping when I’m this close just so you and Lestrade can have a chat.” At this, Sherlock’s grin only grows wider.

And John would never admit it, but it is unbelievably arousing to watch Sherlock talk to an oblivious Lestrade while he is being fucked. To give the man credit, he is concealing his arousal well, his calm and collected demeanor oddly juxtaposing with his hard, leaking cock.

The intensity of the situation is suddenly all too much, and John spills into Sherlock’s arse, biting his knuckles to muffle his loud moan.

Sherlock coughs to cover up his own whimper as he feels John’s orgasm inside him.

“I’m _fine_ , Lestrade. I just choked for a minute there…Yes, we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

And with that, he hangs up the phone.

“John, we have to go.”

“ _Now_? But you haven’t even-”

“There’s no time, the longer we wait, the longer Anderson has to ruin the evidence.”

“Okay, but you at least need a shower.”

“John. _There is no time._ ”

“Sherlock, surely you understand that things will get... _messy_ if you don’t-”

“Get a plug, then.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Grab a plug, put it in my arse, and things won’t ‘get messy.’”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Besides, we can pick up where we left off as soon as we get back,” Sherlock purred.

“You know what? Fine. It’s an insane, stupid idea, but it’s not my arse.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

John reached over to open the nearby drawer of the end table, and quickly rummaged through it until he found a plug. He worked it into Sherlock as quickly and carefully as possible -- not an easy task, as the man was fidgeting with impatience -- and once it was in, allowed the man to get up and begin preparing himself to enter into the public eye.

Of course, it was a complete coincidence that John chose a plug that happens to vibrate. Pure chance that this particular plug tends to settle right against Sherlock’s prostate.

And grabbing the plug’s remote was in no way intended to be used for any sort of childish “revenge” for answering the phone at a truly inconvenient time. Really, John wouldn’t be _that_ petty.

* * *

The cab ride to the crime scene was silent as Sherlock pored over the few low-quality photographs he had been sent by Lestrade. When the cab stopped outside the antique shop, Sherlock jumped out, leaving John to pay as usual.

Not that John minded this time, as it allowed him to savor the almost imperceptible change in Sherlock’s walk as a result of having a thick plug up his arse.

John squeezed into the cluttered shop, made even more crowded due to the number of people crammed inside the small building. He watched Sherlock flit around the store with his unusual enthusiasm, carefully inspecting an artful display of antique dolls and the marks on the counter where the owner has supposedly been knocked unconscious and kidnapped.

While John enjoyed few things more than watching Sherlock in his element, he was well aware that they were on a rather tight time frame due to their temporary “solution,” and decided to remind him of that fact. He crouched down behind Sherlock as the man was using his magnifying glass to examine scuff marks on the floor.

“So, what do you think?”

“As Lestrade’s team discovered, there is an enormous amount of evidence to suggest that Ms. Arnall’s ex-husband has kidnapped her, likely for revenge as a result of a nasty divorce.”

“Something tells me you disagree?”

“Of course, you see-” Sherlock stopped mid-sentence, his eyes wide as he quietly gasped for breath.

For a split second, John panicked, fearing that Sherlock needed medical attention. But he quickly realized that as Sherlock had been talking, someone had squeezed by John in the crowded shop, forcing John to press himself against one of the shelves -- accidentally pressing the button of a remote in his pocket he had forgotten about.

“Shit, sorry,” he said softly, fumbling for the remote as subtly as possible, trying to ignore Sherlock’s obviously growing hard-on.

“No, it’s fine, fine…” Sherlock mumbled, trying to control his breathing.

“Alright, so not the ex-husband?”

“No. It was her.”

“What do you mean?”

Sherlock began to stand as he explained, “John, don’t be an idiot. Ms. Arnall- _God._ ”

Perhaps this time the button of the remote wasn’t pressed quite so accidentally. But as quickly as John had turned the vibrating plug on, he switched it off.

“Go on.”

“Ms. Arnall is alive and well. She is framing her ex-husband for her own murder.”

And with that, Sherlock snapped back into his usual crime scene-state or arrogance and condescension as he explained the evidence to Lestrade.

But because there was no longer a life at stake, John felt little guilt in distracting his lover by turning the plug on briefly at random intervals. He particularly loved watching Sherlock try to hide his reactions to the vibrations, though he did begin to speak noticeably quicker as a light flush begin to rise on his cheeks.

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

“Fine, Lestrade.”

“You don’t look good, are you feverish?”

“ _I’m fine_.”

John finally took sympathy on him and stepped in.

“No Sherlock, he’s right. We need to get you home.”

A brief flash of relief crossed Sherlock’s face before it was masked with a look of pure stubbornness. “But John-”

“Sherlock, you already solved the case. Let’s go.”

“Fine. We’ll go.”

* * *

Once on the street and out of sight of Lestrade’s team, John turns to Sherlock.

“How are you doing?”

“I would like to get home as soon as possible.”

“If it’s too much, you can safeword out and we can take care of it now. Do you need to use the safeword?”

“No.”

“Alright, good.”

Sherlock threw his arm up to hail a cab, and a short while later they were sitting in the back of the car, on their way back to Baker Street.

John presses the button on his remote again, and watches in satisfaction as Sherlock’s head drops back against the seat, his jaw tense to prevent any sound from escaping.

And this time, instead of allowing Sherlock to enjoy the vibrations for several seconds, he leaves the plug on. The cab driver is thankfully lost in his own world, the radio drowning out the quiet sound of the vibrator.

“Alright?” John asks, noting that Sherlock has started to shiver slightly.

His only response is a tight nod, for Sherlock can’t trust himself to make any sound other than a moan of pleasure.

When he starts to subtly grind his hips into his seat, John moves a hand to rest lightly on Sherlock’s lap. He can feel Sherlock’s cock throbbing underneath his hand, and begins to rub his hand in small, light circles over it. Sherlock bites his lip in frustration, digging his fingernails into the seat as his pulse steadily becomes faster and faster.

But just as Sherlock thinks he is about to come from the buzzing against his prostate and John’s slight motions, John squeezes him roughly to prevent his orgasm. A groan is ripped from his throat, finally getting the cabbie’s attention.

“Alright back there, mate?”

Sherlock swallows, and replies with a tight voice, “Yes, fine. Just jarred an injury.”

John snorts with laughter at the sloppy excuse, but thankfully the cab arrives at Baker Street a moment later.

For once, Sherlock stays seated while John pays for the cab. But even once John gets out, Sherlock hesitates to follow.

With a look of concern, John helps his partner out, only to find himself supporting most of Sherlock’s weight due to his trembling.

“ _Jesus,_ Sherlock. Let’s get you inside.”

They slowly made their way into the flat with one of Sherlock’s arms looped over John’s shoulders. John felt slightly bad to see his partner struggling to walk, but not bad enough to turn off the plug.

* * *

Once in the bedroom, Sherlock collapsed backwards onto the bed and began to writhe against the sheets. John tried his hardest to remove Sherlock’s clothes as quickly as possible -- not an easy task with the man squirming around. When Sherlock was finally stripped, John took a step back to catch his breath and briefly admire the view.

Sherlock was writhing and arching his back on the sheets, his entire body lightly flushed and glistening with slight sheen of perspiration. Now that they were alone, he didn’t need to hold back, and was filling the room with moans and whimpers as the plug continued to rumbled inside him. He clearly needed to come -- _badly_ \-- but he made such a beautiful picture that John couldn’t resist toying with him just a bit more.

With a smirk, he lightly ran his fingernails down Sherlock’s stomach, causing the man to slam his head back against the mattress and roughly pull on his own hair in frustration.

“ _Easy_ , love. You’re alright.”

He began to thumb Sherlock’s nipples, hard and sensitive due to his intense state of arousal.

“ _John…_ ” His name came out as a desperate whine.

As John danced his fingers softly up and down Sherlock’s cock, he knew that the teasing was edging into cruelty, and finally took mercy on his partner. He finally gripped Sherlock with satisfying tightness, and began to work him up and down, running his thumb over the head every few strokes.

Soon, Sherlock was all but panting, overwhelmed by the stimulation. John knew he was close, and just needed one last push to send him over the edge.

John used the hand that wasn’t currently busy to pinch Sherlock’s nipples roughly, and began to mouth at his partner’s neck.

“You can come now, my love.”

With a loud groan, Sherlock thrashed wildly as he came harder than he had in a very long time, spurting over himself and the bed.

As he shuddered through the aftershocks, John reached down to switch off the plug, and began to speak to Sherlock soothingly.

“There you go, you’re okay, you’re so beautiful…”

As gently as possible, John worked the plug out of Sherlock’s oversensitive body, apologizing when he whimpered quietly.

Tossing the vibrator aside -- they could deal with that later -- John gathered Sherlock against his chest.

“You need a shower, you know.”

“I’m tired,” Sherlock mumbled against John’s chest.

John chuckled, “I’m sure you are. Ten minutes, and then you have to get up so we can get you -- and the sheets -- clean.”

“Don’t want to.”

“I’ll help.”

“...fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, consider following me on tumblr: http://petitedemise.tumblr.com/ I don't use it much right now, but I plan to post updates/short fics there in the future.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
